


Sisko’s Curious Courses: A Dinner Party

by perfectlyoptimisticanchor, scifihobbit



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyoptimisticanchor/pseuds/perfectlyoptimisticanchor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifihobbit/pseuds/scifihobbit
Summary: The crew gathers for a dinner party. Set mid-season 4.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Odo & Worf (Star Trek)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Sisko’s Curious Courses: A Dinner Party

Worf stood outside Odo’s office. He had arranged to meet Odo at exactly 2045, but had arrived at 2044 and was waiting until the appropriate time to enter. After the minute passed, he entered the sliding doors. “Hello, Odo. It is good to see you. Are you ready for our evening?”

Odo looked up from his desk. “Hello, Worf. Yes, I’m ready, just let me put this PADD away.” As he spoke, he tucked the PADD into his desk drawer. “Should we head out?”

“We should. We are expected at 2100 and we do not want to be late. It would imply that we do not honor the invitation.” He raised his left arm to show the bottle he held. “I have the prune juice.”

They left Security for the promenade, where they turned left towards the turbolift. “How do you like your new quarters on the _Defiant_?” Odo asked.

“They suit me. I feel more at home on the enclosed vessel than I did on the station. There are too many people here, and some of them thought they could drop by my quarters unexpectedly. I did not like it.” 

Odo nodded. “I know what you mean,” he said, then abruptly stopped as they neared Quark’s. “Excuse me a minute, Commander,” he murmured, and dashed inside the door. Worf saw him walk quickly up to the bar, pause for a second as he spoke to Quark, then spin on his heel and come right back out. “Please excuse that delay,” he said to Worf. “I like to pop in whenever I can to remind Quark that I'm always watching.” 

“That is a good idea,” Worf replied. “Quark must be reminded that his unsavory deeds will be discovered.” The two men continued to stroll along the promenade, heading towards their destination.

**

Julian Bashir was in the infirmary office, writing up his notes for the day. A nurse appeared at the doorway and he looked up. “Doctor, Mr. Garak is here to see you…” he said slowly, unsure if the doctor would see a visitor now. “Garak!” Julian looked up in surprise. “Is it time already?! Yes, show him in!” He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and looked at the wall clock. “2045 already!”

Garak stood in the doorway. “Yes, my dear, 2045 already. And you were to meet me in my shop at 2030, weren’t you?” He gave a small smile. “But when you didn’t show up, I knew where you must be. Working away, losing track of time. But don’t worry – I brought a change of clothes with me.” He held up the garment bag and added, “I’ll think you’ll like what I did with your shirt. It just needed a few touches to really… liven it up.”

Julian reached for the bag and opened it, savoring the moment of anticipation before he would see Garak’s work, which always impressed and surprised him. The silver shirt, which he had worn for years, had recently begun to be so frayed in areas that even Odo had commented to him on the shabbiness. Garak had, of course, jumped at the chance to make some alterations. The new jacket had been cleaned somehow so that the silver sparkled like stars, and the trim covering the frayed areas was a deep midnight blue that glimmered in the light. Julian caught his breath. “Garak,” he breathed, “this is wonderful. I can’t believe this is the same piece at all.”

Garak smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Now, why don’t you get changed so we can head over?” Julian was a step ahead of him, having already shed his blue uniform top and was pulling the shirt on over his head. “All right!” he said, “let’s go!” He reached for Garak’s hand to give it a quick squeeze before dropping it. “Are you nervous?” he asked, leading the way out of the infirmary. 

“Well, my dear. It’s not every day that an exiled Cardassian dines with a Federation Captain, in his own quarters, no less.”

“Oh Garak,” sighed Julian as they entered the promenade. “Don’t worry. He really wants you to come. He wouldn’t have invited you otherwise.”

They strolled side-by-side, their shoulders brushing. Julian stopped in front of one of the windows through which they could see the wormhole. “Isn’t it majestic?” he whispered, as he reached for Garak’s hand once again, this time squeezing it tight and leaning his body slightly into Garak’s. “I never seem to tire of this view, even after all these years.”

The couple stood together in silence, enjoying the view and the weight of their bodies pressed together. Garak eventually cleared his throat. “My dear, I think we’d really better be going. It’s already 2110.”

Julian looked up in surprise. “Already?! Well, yes, let’s get going then!”

They quickened their pace and walked towards Captain Sisko’s quarters. Jake was away visiting his grandfather on Earth, and the Captain had invited the senior officers for dinner. Partners had been invited, too, but with Keiko on Bajor, Garak would be the only non-senior staff present. “Here we are!” announced Julian as they approached the Captain’s door. He raised his arm to knock when the door slid open.

“Come in!” said Sisko with a huge grin. “Only 20 minutes late tonight, not bad, Doctor.” He looked at Garak, his eyes twinkling. “I assume we have you to thank that he’s not any later?”

The two men grinned and walked in, looking around as they did so. Chief O’Brien stood in the corner with Kira and Worf, while Odo was near the kitchen and makeshift bar table with Sisko. Odo was looking awkward, holding a large bowl in his arms.

“Doctor!” cried O’Brien as they approached.

“Chief!” replied Julian, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. “Hi to you, too, Kira, Worf.” He nodded at them both happily.

Kira looked up from her drink. “Doctor. Garak.”

“Could I interest either of you in some prune juice?” asked Worf, holding up his glass. “It is quite good tonight. I was able to procure a non-replicated bottle.” He looked at Garak. “It is thick and sweet, like kanar.”

“Oh, I think I’d better have the real thing tonight,” Garak replied lightly, as he looked towards the replicator. “Thank you ever so much for the offer, though.” He walked away to replicate a glassful.

“I’ll have some, Worf,” said Julian. “It’s really quite high in phosphorus, you know, and I do always like to remind my human patients how much we need our phosphorus.”

Worf poured a glass and handed it over. “I am glad that it has some nutritional benefit to you.”

Garak returned and sipped from his glass. “Ah,” he said. “That first sip after a long day is always so... fortifying, don’t you think, Chief?”

“Oh yeah!” replied Chief O’Brien. He raised his glass high in the air, towards the center of the group. Worf followed suit, copying the motion. Garak and Kira looked at them.

Seeing their faces, Worf said, “It is an old Human tradition. They raise their glasses into the air and say ‘Cheers’ as a symbol of their camaraderie.”

“What, you’re telling me Klingons don’t ‘cheers,’ Worf?!” said O’Brien, surprised.

Worf scoffed. “We are a warrior people. We do not yell ‘cheers’ when drinking. We sing songs of our people and the great battles we’ve fought and won. We reminisce in our victories.”

“Ah, well, we Humans sing when we drink, too! In fact, Jullian’s quite good at it! C’mon, Jullian, ‘And did those feet, in ancient times…’” he began to sing.

“Oh, no one wants to hear that, Chief,” mumbled Jullian, blushing and trying to avoid Garak’s eye.

“On the contrary, in fact, I rather think we do want to hear that, don’t we, Major?” Garak looked at the Major, his eyes sparkling.

She laughed behind her drink and nodded enthusiastically. “I’d say we do!”

“Er - um - well, I’ve got to go get a drink myself!” Jullian blustered, and turned to walk towards the bar to see what Sisko was offering, glad to escape for a moment.  
What fresh hell that would be, to sing in front of Garak and everyone. He would never live that down. 

Kira watched Julian slink off and didn’t try to stop herself from grinning. “Well, we Bajorans like to start every drink with a prayer of hope,” she glanced out of the corner of her eye to make sure both Julian and Sisko were out of earshot, “so,” and she pulled the glass up close to her mouth so she was whispering over its rim, “may the Emissary hear our hope and gift us with an operatic duet before the night is over.”

“I’ll put the idea in his head,” O’Brien winked.

There was a chime at the door, Sisko shouted “Welcome!” from where he was standing at the stove he’d set up in the middle of the living room. No one knew where he stowed the stove when he wasn’t cooking. Kira thought he beamed it to and from a cargo bay. O’Brien swore nothing got through the transporters without his knowing about it.

The door slid open and Jadzia stepped in. She grinned at the room at large and then made her way directly over to the stove of mystery.

“Taste this, Old Man!” Sisko held out a large spoon full of what must have been some sort of vegetable--or root--or fungi.

Jadzia stopped short, almost dropping the box she’d been about to hand him. And then leaned forward delicately to slurp one of the neon green shapes into her mouth. She looked up and without missing a beat said, “Needs more Risian guava seed.”

Sisko waved his free hand dismissively. “I’ll be the judge of that! It’s your job to tell me it’s great.” But even as he said this Sisko handed a small jar of something to Odo, who was still holding the bowl, waiting for any sort of instruction. Odo took the jar and looked at it quizzically, and then back up at Sisko, who had already turned away--his trust in his sous chef perhaps unearned.

Jadzia laughed, and tried again to hand the box she was holding to Sisko. This time he took it from her. He pried the lid open, and as soon as he’d gotten it off made one of those loud, startled, one syllable noises that wasn’t quite a laugh but signified delight. “Where’d you find this?” he asked.

“I have a friend who works at the Andorian embassy on Earth.”

“What is it?” Bashir had wandered over, drink in hand, avoiding Garak’s--and the rest of their--teasing for a little longer. He gave it four minutes until O’Brien dragged a new and distracting anecdote out of Worf so that the whole conversation could move on.

Odo looked at Bashir desperately, balancing the bowl in one hand and holding the jar of seeds in the other. Again, everyone seemed to be ignoring his plight.

“This!” Sisko said, and raised the small bauble out of the box, holding it up to the light. “This is an Andorian star fire gem.”

“Or,” Dax chimed in, “at least that’s what he thought it was.”

“One of the first diplomatic missions I went on with Curzon was to the third planet of the Andorian system. There was a bazaar once every six days--”

“--it was every eight,” Dax said. “When the moon passed across the Inglet star.”

“Six. Eight. Point is! There was a bazaar, and one day, I bought a star fire gem from one of the merchants there. I haggled with him just like Curzon had taught me to, and I thought I was getting away with quite a steal. You--” he pointed a jokingly accusatory finger at Dax (Bashir was well aware the story wasn’t for his benefit any more) “you stood there the whole time, acting the proud mentor. Impressed by how I was using your teachings to move so confidently through this alien culture.”

Dax raised her hands to start to protest.

“That was exactly what you wanted me to think,” Sisko said. “Don’t deny it.”

And Jadzia laughed, “I would never, Benjamin.”

Odo had started tapping the jar gently against the rim of the bowl. There were holes in its lid and a tiny spray of seeds came out with each tap.

“Then, after the negotiations are done with,” Sisko continued, “we take a shoreleave in the southern hemisphere of the planet. Curzon tells me how beautiful the beaches are--and how much more beautiful the Andorian women are. That first morning, I stride out onto the beach ready to have the time of my life, and do you know what that beach is covered in?

“Oh, what?” Bashir realized Sisko was looking at him expectantly. He was supposed to be participating in the story again. “No, sir. What?”

The answer was more than obvious to Odo, but he was busy with his project.

“Andorian star fire gems!” Sisko yelped. “They’re nothing more than pebbles!”

“Well,” Bashir said, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Sisko held the bauble up again. It did catch the light in a rather beautiful way. “And this,” he said, “this is certainly treasure.”

“Do you want one, Odo?” Dax asked, stepping around Sisko to finally free Odo of the jar and the bowl. “Might be fun to try and convince Quark to buy it for a tidy sum.”

“That sounds more like the kind of thing you would enjoy, Commander.” Odo handed her the bowl and said, “I tapped the jar six times. I believe this resulted in approximately 2 grams of additional Risan guava seeds.”

Dax grabbed the spoon from next to the wok and dipped it in the sauce Odo had been carefully tending. She tried a small slurp and grinned. “Perfect! See Ben, this is a man who knows how to properly season a dish.”

Odo tried not to look pleased with himself, but didn’t quite manage.

Then she held the spoon up to Bashir’s face. He blanched, but Dax’s eyes were daring him, so he refused back down. He didn’t know when this had become pick-on-Doctor-Bashir night. He took the smallest lick from the tip of the spoon and Dax rolled her eyes at him. “Mmm, delicious,” he managed. The sauce did taste better than it looked at least.

Garak slid up next to him and placed a hand on the small of his back. Julian startled a little and enjoyed the quick flare of adrenaline that came with it. Garak was always still finding ways to sneak up on him. Bashir didn’t know if he’d ever stop.

“It seems that everyone on this side of the room is being provided a preview of what tonight may hold,” Garak said.

“Mr. Garak! So glad you could join us!” boomed Sisko. “I’m just giving the others here a sneak peek at tonight’s dinner.”

“Forcing us to compliment him on the skills, he means,” laughed Jadzia. “But Odo is really the one who perfected the final dish,” she added with a sly grin at Benjamin. She loved teasing him when she could, and since she was off duty, she definitely could. 

“Ah, well, Odo never fails to succeed at anything he attempts,” said Garak. “And you, Captain, couldn’t make a bad meal if you tried. Believe me, I’ve heard all about your culinary skills from Julian.” 

Captain Sisko beamed. “Well, everything is ready, so I think it’s time we all sat down for dinner!” He turned towards the others and gestured towards the table at the back of the room. “Everyone! Come fill a bowl and take a seat!” Jadzia handed bowls to Julian and Garak, bypassing Odo. He enjoyed spending the evening with his colleagues, but he wouldn’t be eating. 

Worf walked over and picked up a bowl. “What is the seating arrangement, Captain?”

“Worf, you can sit whereEVER you want! Tonight is about having fun and relaxing.”

“I do not know if we should be relaxing when the threat of war is looming, Sir.” 

Sisko sobered momentarily. “If war does come, we will not be able to relax so easily. So let’s make every effort to enjoy tonight.” He patted Worf on the shoulder. Returning to his jovial manner he added, “Now, come, fill a bowl and join us at the table!” 

Worf did so, and scanned the table. Odo sat at one end, and the end opposite him was open. Worf sat down, Kira, Sisko, and O'Brien to his right, and Dax, Julian, and Garak to his left. “Jadzia, hello,” he said, nodding at her. “I was not able to greet you properly when you arrived.”

“Hello, Worf,” she replied. “Kira was just telling me about the baseball game Benjamin took her to last week.”

“Baseball,” said Worf, “I am familiar with the sport. Did he make you eat a ‘hot dog’?”

“Yes!” said Kria, laughing. “He did! We got them from Quark’s along with some peanuts before the game started. Captain said it was an integral part of watching the game, but to be honest, it seemed like it was mostly to give us something to do since not much happens in the game itself.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Sisko injected. “Not much going on in the game itself? Major, did you learn nothing during our afternoon together? Every batter that steps up to the plate is full of potential! And in that moment before the pitcher releases the ball, well - anything could happen!”

“But nothing does,” Dax grinned. “That’s the problem.” Kira covered her mouth to hide her laughter. Sisko huffed. “No one understands me. AT LEAST compliment me on tonight’s dinner!” 

“It’s very tasty, sir. What is that taste -- Risan guava seeds?” Worf asked.

***

“Chief, how’s Keiko?” asked Julian down at the other end of the table.

“Oh, Keiko is great,” Miles said dreamily, stirring his dinner. “She and Molly are on Romulus right now at a botany conference.”

“Ah,” said Garak, “I would love to talk to her after the conference. I used to be a gardener at the Cardassian embassy on Romulus, you know.”

“Sure you did,” O'Brien grunted. Julian kicked him under the table, and he jumped. “I mean, sure, maybe you two can talk about plants then when she gets back.”

“A gardener, hmm?” said Odo. “Tell me, do you miss it?”

“Oh, I miss the feeling of dirt under my hands, certainly. I miss seeing orchids bloom before my very eyes. But, after all, there is a season for everything in life, and the season of my life now is to be but a simple tailor.” He smiled over at Julian. “After all, were I not a tailor, I would not have met the dear doctor. And who needs a tailor more than he does?”

Julian blushed once again, and pressed his leg against Garak’s under the table. 

“I’ll say!” said Miles. “With the costume changes he does in the Holosuite, he certainly needs a tailor on call!”

“Chief, you’re one to talk! You need five costume changes alone in the Battle of Britain!” Julian protested.

“Odo, why don’t you join us sometime?” O’Brien asked. 

“I don’t trust Quark’s holosuites, that’s why. Do you remember the time he tried to copy Kira’s image without her knowledge? Or the time Morn got locked in one for six hours because Quark couldn’t resist a little extra latinum?”

“Aw, admit it Odo, without Quark your days on this station would be a lot less interesting.”

“Hrumph,” grunted Odo.

“I personally find the whole matter somewhat discomfiting,” Garak said. “One hates to think about how often Quark must clean those things, given his penchant for cutting corners. And given the activities that customers are so often engaged in in them…” he trailed off.

“You know what,” O’Brien said, raising his spoon to emphasize what was sure to be a defensive and argumentative statement, but at Julian’s pointed stare he trailed off. “Well, I bet Rom came up with some sort of disinfectant sweep years ago. And besides Garak, are you discounting the talents of our dear doctor here? He’d cure anything picked up in a holosuite faster than you could hem pants.”

Garak blinked blandly at him, a small smile on his face. “I have absolutely no doubt he could.”

“Federation health codes are much higher than Cardassian ones,” Odo said. “And they’re written into Quark’s contract with the station. He cuts corners, but never so much as to put his business at risk. After all, one of their insufferable rules of acquisition is ‘A contract is a contract is a contract.’”

“But only among Ferengi,” Garak said. “Isn’t that how that one goes?”

“Sisko outranks a Ferengi any day,” O’Brien added. “Even in Quark’s eyes.”

There was a crackling noise over from where the kitchen was simmering and Sisko, as if in response to O’Brien’s comment, jumped up with a hiss. He yelped, “The fondue!” and jogged over to the standing stove.

The whole table paused to look at him. Sisko in motion was a hard thing to ignore. He didn’t notice their stares, bent over one of the pots that was bubbling slightly. Sisko stirred it gently, and Bashir would swear he even heard Sisko whisper to it.

“Fondue?” Worf and Kira said in a near identical tone of voice and turned towards Dax simultaneously.

“It’s French, I believe,” Dax said. “I’m surprised Picard never introduced you to it, Worf.”

“Captain Picard is not the… culinary enthusiast that Sisko is.”

Sisko came back over to the table, two large fondue pots in hand and set one at either end. “Fondue!” He exclaimed again, with a near-manic smile. “Betazoid sheep’s chocolate fondue to be exact. You’ve never tasted something with such a delightful tang before.”

“Isn’t fondue usually an appetizer?” Bashir asked from the other end of the table.

“Well this is a dessert. The day there is something usual about these dinners is the day I stop making them. ”

O’Brien made a face that said “If only” without saying it. Only Odo noticed, and he was relieved yet again that he could not eat, seeing as it seemed to cause so many of the guests such distress. He had noticed though, over the course of these many senior staff dinners, that despite whatever complaints or distress the evening might begin with, everyone was singing its praises by the end.

“How does one… eat this?” Worf asked, staring at the pot on his end of the table. “There is no surviving utensil. Are we to eat directly from the pot?”

“Yes!” Dax explained, “See, you dip something - Benjamin, do you have things to dip?”

“Right behind you, Old Man!” Sisko appeared holding two platters piled high. “We have quite the assortment tonight,” he explained as he set down a platter next to each pot. “Sliced Edosian inka fruit, Bolian cietana berries, cubed Earth pound cake, and pillowly, delicate Breen yakarra root.”

“Right,” said Dax. “So, you pick something and stab it with your fork” - she demonstrated as she talked, stabbing a plump cietana berry - “and dip it into the fondue.  
Then, you eat!” She plopped the now chocolate-covered berry in her mouth. “Delicious!” she cried, and speared a chunk of yakarra root. “Go on, everyone, try some!”

“I do love Betazoid sheep’s chocolate,” Julian said, poking a bit of pound cake. 

“You love any kind of chocolate, Doctor,” Garak said with a smile, as he, too, dipped his fork into the bubbling pot.

Down at their end of the table, both Kira and Worf were following suit. “Captain, I have to admit, this is better than it looks!” Kira cried. “The tang of the sheep’s milk chocolate really is magical with the inka fruit.” To prove her point, she stabbed another piece.

Even Worf was impressed. “Sir,” he said, “this is quite tasty.” 

Sisko laughed. “Well, if you approve, Worf, I know I did something right!” He sat down and smiled across the table at his senior staff. They didn’t get enough time to relax together, and he was grateful for the nights like this.


End file.
